


From Half to Whole

by littleblackbow



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-21
Updated: 2012-08-21
Packaged: 2017-11-12 14:14:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/492072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleblackbow/pseuds/littleblackbow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Viktor is coach of a community-league Quidditch team. George is half a person without his brother. When Ron and his friends take George to a Quidditch game. George begins to understand what’s really missing in his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From Half to Whole

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alisanne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alisanne/gifts).



**Recipient:** Alisanne

**Author:** [**chibitoaster**](http://www.dreamwidth.org/profile?user=chibitoaster) / [**littleblackbow**](http://littleblackbow.dreamwidth.org/)

**Title:** From Half to Whole

**Rating:** NC-17

**Pairing:** Viktor/George

**Word Count:** 15,991

**Warnings/Content Information (Highlight to View):** * Canon character deaths, dark themes. *

**Summary:** Viktor is coach of a community-league Quidditch team. George is half a person without his brother. When Ron and his friends take George to a Quidditch game. George begins to understand what’s _really_ missing in his life.

**Author's Notes:** When I read your request, I knew I wanted to write something with George, and the more I thought about it, the more Quidditch kept creeping back into my thoughts. So here is it, a very Weasley-heavy H/C story about survival, recovery, and love.

Thanks to my wonderful betas. And to the chatroom that cheered me on and helped me get through this short little story that turned into an epic.

 

“Get down! Keep your head down when you fly, it will... hmmm? Streamline you!” Viktor still had trouble with a few words in English, but over the past two years, he’d improved a great deal. It really was true that if you lived in a place, it was much easier to learn the language. 

The East Leeds Community Quidditch team was flying overhead, well-concealed by a combination of charms and cloudy weather. They would be lucky, indeed, if it didn’t rain today. “Bludgers coming from the left, beaters! Make certain you keep looking for them. Seeker! Pay attention!”

Viktor reached down and took the hand of the young, dark-haired boy who stood next to him. “Come. We must go to other end of field or they will not hear me.”

The little boy stood and ran alongside Viktor as they made their way to the other end of the Quidditch pitch. It wasn’t as glorious as the official stadiums and nothing like the ones Viktor had flown in when he was the seeker representing his home country. Still, this was a good place and he and Alexander were safe in England. 

Besides, coaching was the next best thing to playing, even if it was a community-league team.

***

 

George was not the same person he had been two years ago. It was only two years ago when he and Fred had charged into Hogwarts together, fighting side-by-side. Two years ago, he felt as if nothing could ever harm them. They were young, clever and they were Gryffindors. What one brother started, the other would finish. What trouble one brother got into, the other got them out of.

But now, there was only one. George was alone. Somehow, he couldn’t understand that there were other brothers who cared about him. That the rest of his family was still there. Fred was gone. That was the end of his world.

It had been two years of aimless wandering through life. His family took him places and had him do things - go along with various activities. But George would only speak in half-sentences, as if waiting for Fred to finish them. Often, when he was by himself, he would talk into the nothingness, asking questions and sharing jokes with a brother who wasn’t there.

“Are you ready to go, George?” Ron asked, pulling his jumper over his head. None of them wore their jumpers with their initials on them anymore. The letter set was incomplete and somehow the lack of an “F” jumper made things worse for George. “The match tonight should be fun to watch, even if it is just community-league.”

“I think I’d like... But only if we can... afterwards,” he muttered. Ron wasn’t sure if he was talking to him or just muttering to himself.

“We can go wherever you want, George. Hermione is going to meet us there and Harry said he might come, as well. It’s a little far from Diagon Alley, but Mr. Ollivander said he didn’t need Harry’s help tonight, so he could take the afternoon off. Isn’t that great?”

George picked up his long cloak and shrugged into it. “We’re taking the car?”

Ron sighed. “I thought we’d floo to the Dragon’s Clutch Inn and walk the rest of the way.”

George nodded. Ron took his elbow and ushered him out of George’s room and down the stairs.

***

 

The game was, indeed a lot of fun. At least it was for Ron, Hermione and Harry. The stands were much shorter than even the ones at Hogwarts, so they had to look up most of the time to watch the action.

Still, twice the seeker had flown down to the ground chasing the snitch and one of the beaters got hit in the shoulder by a bludger and nearly fell to the ground, himself. He flew low to regain his bearing and was right back into the game.

In the end, the East Leeds team won by 90 points, having caught the snitch just before the Southampton team scored another goal.

“Very good! You played Very well!” the East Leeds coach shouted to his players. As all of the players came back down to the field, he picked up a little boy who had been sitting on the lowest bench, giggling and clapping with glee. “And to the defeated, I buy the first round at the Dragon’s Clutch! Very well-played for everyone!”

“Oi, isn’t that Viktor Krum?” Ron asked, pointing down at the coach.

Hermione sighed. “Yes, Ronald. And it has been him for the past two hours, as well. Didn’t you hear him shouting out to the team?”

“I’m sorry, I was too busy watching the game,” Ron said, rolling his eyes. “Right, Harry?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes, Krum’s been coaching here since he was injured early last year. Bludger to the spine. They were able to restore his movement, but he doesn’t have the fine motor skills he used to.” Harry picked up his jacket and slung it over his arm. “Read about it in Quidditch Monthly.”

“And you didn’t tell me?!” Ron was indignant. Viktor Krum had, after all, been one of his favorite players for a time.

“Ron,” Harry said, softly. “It was early last year.”

They all knew what happened at that time. It was George’s first suicide attempt. The healers all said that it was a very serious matter. That the poison he had taken would have worn him down in a matter of weeks if the family hadn’t noticed that his color had changed.

“Oh,” Ron said. He looked over to where George had been sitting, but his brother wasn’t there. “Hey! Where’d he go?”

George had gone down to the pitch and picked up one of the beater’s clubs. The player who had been hit by the bludger came up to him. “Ta mate. Would you mind putting that away for me? I must have gotten hit a little harder than... say, are you alright?”

George just stared down at the club in his hands. Surges of memories came to him all at once. He wanted to put the damn thing down, wanted to throw it away, but for some reason, he couldn’t bear to let it go.

“It’s okay,” Viktor told his player. “You go be seen for your arm. I will put equipment away.”

The player nodded, told Viktor “thanks” and went off toward the medi-hut on the side of the pitch.

“It’s been a long time since you played, Mr. Weasley. You are Weasley, yes? It would be George.”

George looked up at the man in front of him. “Viktor Krum?”

“Aah, yes. You remember. From your brother’s wedding. You look at this as if you wish to play. So, I think next week you come to practice with us?” Viktor crossed his arms and smiled.

“I...I don’t play anymore.”

Viktor clicked his tongue. “That is a pity. You were very good, I think it does good for a man to do what he can do well.”

Ron came up behind George and put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“Why would he not be all right? He is a born player standing in a pitch with a club in his hand. I think this is good.” Viktor smiled. “Hello, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter, Hermione.”

Ron looked behind him briefly at Harry and Hermione. They looked as if they didn’t know what to do. “You said there would be a party at the Dragon’s Clutch? That’s where we flooed into.”

“Then you must come! I will buy drinks for you to celebrate.” 

The little boy came up and pulled on Viktor’s sleeve. “Pa-pa, the team is going now.” He looked over at the three who were standing behind the other ginger-haired man and hid behind Viktor. “Izzat...?”

Viktor laughed in a deep jubilant tone. “Come, Alexander. Meet some friends of your pa-pa. This is Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger and I believe George Weasley.” The boy looked at them and then buried his face in Viktor’s shoulder. “And suddenly we are shy boy?”

The young, dark-haired boy turned back and looked at the four. He had dark eyes and already a nose that reminded George of Professor Snape. “Am not.” He waved quickly at everyone and turned back into Viktor’s shoulder.

“He’s perhaps a little embarrassed. You see he has grown up admiring you three.”

George looked up at Viktor. “That’s your son? I didn’t think you were old enough to have a three-year old child.”

Alexander turned back to George. “Four! I’m four. And I’m going to be five in July.”

Viktor laughed again. “Come. Let’s go to the inn and I will tell you everything. It is not so hard to understand. The war, it leaves many orphans.”

***

 

It had been just over two weeks since the match and George couldn’t seem to get the feel of the beater’s club out of his hand. It had felt so good - like something he was supposed to have. And yet, when he went home, he couldn’t find his own club, or Fred’s. When he asked his mother what happened to them, she shuffled around, muttering something about not keeping track of things that don’t matter. 

He could tell she was avoiding the subject.

“I think I need one,” he said at dinner, shoving the boiled carrots around on his plate. “I think I am going to buy one.”

Everyone stared at him for a moment, not sure what to make of this change. George never finished his sentences. They so rarely knew what he was talking about. And he never, _NEVER_ spoke at the dinner table. The only people it seemed he would share his thoughts with were himself and the ghost of his twin.

“Tomorrow, maybe, I’ll go to Diagon Alley.” He took another bite of mashed potatoes and one more bite of carrots.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea, dear,” Molly said. “Why don’t you go on Friday so Ron or Ginny can go with you?”

George looked over at his brother and sister. “I think I’ll be fine on my own, thank you. I would like to go tomorrow.”

Everyone at the dinner table was stunned, Molly looked as if she was about to cry. 

“Capital idea!” Arthur finally said. “You can stop by the bank and say hello to your brother while you’re there.” 

At that George smiled and tucked back into his dinner.

***

 

He had been looking in the window at Quality Quidditch supplies for nearly half an hour, looking back and forth between the brand new Peregrine Dasher ultralight broomstick and the beater’s clubs displayed below. George was oblivious to the dozen or so youth surrounding him as he stared. His hands were trembling and his throat had gone dry at the thought that he might have one or both of these treasures to take home with him.

What would Fred think? What would he do? What would Fred want him to do?

Fred would want George to buy two of each. One for each of them. That way they could go practice together above the fields outside the Burrow. He definitely couldn’t buy just one. That wouldn’t be fair.

“I think you should buy,” a deep voice told him from over his shoulder. George looked back. “Hello George Weasley,” Viktor said, smiling. “That broomstick is a good buy for you. And you need new club, yes?”

“I don’t know,” George said. “I keep thinking that I should buy two. One for me and one for...”

“For your brother who is no longer here? Yes, I understand. Buying two of everything your whole life and now you find it difficult to buy only one. That is something most people never... oh, how to say?”

“They never have to deal with that kind of problem,” George offered. “Yes, I don’t know what to do.”

“The answer is simple. You buy one for you. One broomstick, one club. That is all you need. There is just you to buy for now and it makes no sense to buy a second broom and a second club for a person who is not here.” Viktor shrugged and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

George’s family had never been so blunt with him. He was sure they knew what he was going through, or at least tried to understand, but they had never put it into words. 

“But... I can’t...”

“Of course you can. It would be foolish not to. Look, I can go with you. Alexander is having his hairs cut and will be with Madam Hollyhock for another half hour. She always stuffs him full of sweets when we go.” Viktor laughed and shrugged. “But then, she gives good discounts. And it’s good for a woman to spoil the boy sometimes.” 

George chuckled. “She sounds like my mum.”

“Yes, I think they are very much alike.” Viktor laughed. “Come with me. We’ll get a good price on that broom and then you come play beater on my team next week.”

All of a sudden, George froze and his expression fell into one of shock. “Oh, I can’t. I mean, I just couldn’t.”

Viktor turned to him again. “You were beater for Gryffindor, yes? And that is your position you played with fond memories?”

“I only played with... I never played alone.”

“You won’t be playing alone. Jonathan Sikes is our other beater. The one who was not injured. He is a good man. Good player and very energized.” Viktor took George’s elbow and ushered him into the shop.

The shopkeeper looked overjoyed to see Viktor Krum in his establishment. “Oh! Good afternoon, sir. What an honor it is to have you here again. Can it be that you’re shopping for a new broomstick? That the great Viktor Krum will be playing again?”

Everyone in the shop turned to look at them as they walked inside. Viktor sighed and just smiled at everyone, waving. “No, not this time, I’m afraid. My friend here is interested in a new broomstick and a beater’s club.”

George started to panic. This was happening too fast. He’d only been looking at them for half an hour or so and now they were expecting him to buy them? “No, really, I should probably...”

Viktor stared at George for a long moment, then he smiled and nodded. 

“A gift, then,” he said. “I will purchase that broomstick and the club for my friend here.”

Before George could say or do anything, the shopkeeper was dashing about, wrapping up the broom and the club and putting both of them on Krum’s store account. 

“I can’t... Mr. Krum, I can’t accept...” George started. Viktor put his hand up to stop him.

“No, don’t finish that sentence. You can accept these and you will. It is the perfect solution.” Viktor took the packages and handed them over to George. “And you must call me Viktor. We are friends, yes?”

George stared down at the brown paper-wrapped packages in his arms and swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. When was the last time he had a friend who was not part of his family? “Yes, friends.”

“Then you will come and fly on Thursday? It is not a formal practice. Just flying. No... no pressure for any games, just to fly with the team?”

If it wasn’t anything more than flying, George thought he could handle that. After all, he would go off on his own flying sometimes even when Fred was around. “Thursday. Just flying,” he said, smiling at Viktor.

Viktor patted him on the shoulder. “Very good, then. Now, we will go and pick up Alexander. I am sure he is fattened enough by now.”

George cast a sticking charm on the packages and tucked them onto his back. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about Alexander. You said he’s your son - an orphan?”

“Yes. Oh, you were not listening that day. Perhaps you were too busy thinking about the game.” Viktor stopped for a moment, took a deep breath, pulled out his wand and cast some sort of charm, then tucked his wand away again. “I’m sorry. Yes, Alexander is the son of Igor and Natalia Karkaroff. When they were... they were killed by Death Eaters, the boy was left alone. I had been named his protector in case something happened, so... so now he is my boy.”

He recognized the pain in that speech. George knew that sort of steady matter-of-fact way of telling the tale. There was probably a lot more to tell, but it was obviously so painful, he couldn’t bear to live through it in his mind again. 

That was every day for George. When someone would ask him where his brother was, he would simply say “He was killed in the battle of Hogwarts,” and that would be it. Although they fought side-by-side and he would live through every moment leading up to the curse and every moment afterward, he had never been able to put any of it into words. 

George put his hand on Viktor’s arm. “You’re a very good person,” he said.

“I can only try to do what is best. Not everyone is a hero who does big things like Mr. Potter. Some of us do little things and that’s all we can do.”

***

 

George was really looking forward to flying on Thursday. When he got home that Monday, everyone was there to greet him and ask him how things went. Of course, Bill had already floo-called the family to tell them that he made it to Gringott’s safely, made a modest withdrawal and was heading in the direction of the Quidditch shop. So, when he arrived home three hours later, everyone was trying not to show their worry, but also trying to be supportive.

It was the first time George had noticed that his whole family had been walking on eggshells around him. He stood for a few moments in the sitting room, Molly, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and even Percy all staring at him in silence. Then he brushed himself off and removed the broomstick and club from his back.

“There’s a new broomstick, Ron. It’s called the Peregrine Dasher. Want to try it out? After me, of course.”

***

 

The broomstick was fast. No, it was very, very fast. It was made entirely of birch, one of the fastest woods in the world, and it was short, sleek and lightweight. In fact, it was the fastest broom that the Snowswept Broomstick Company from Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada had ever created.

George kicked off of the ground and zipped up above the grove of trees just north of the Burrow, dodging in and out among the tops of the evergreens, then swooping down into a clearing, flying between the trunks and back out into the meadow. 

His mind was perfectly clear while he was in mid-air. It was as if the world beneath him and everything that happened there didn’t even exist, all that was left were air and clouds. He felt as light as a feather blowing around on the air currents up there. As he breezed by and flew around the Lovegood home and turned back toward the Burrow he wondered if he might actually be able to fly with the team on Thursday. Sure, he had promised to show up, but he wasn’t actually sure he would be able to fly.

Now, however, he had a different perspective.

When he landed right in front of Ron, grinning madly, trying desperately to catch his breath, he knew that Viktor had been right. This feeling of being on the ground after being up in the air was something else he missed desperately. 

He handed the broomstick to his brother. “Your turn. Just don’t fly into a tree. Mum would hex me if anything happened up there.”

Ron scarcely knew how to react. On one hand, it was fantastic seeing his brother so happy again. Just a short week ago, they could hardly get a word out of him and now it was almost as if he was back to the way he used to be. But then part of him wasn’t sure this was entirely healthy, either. The change had happened so quickly. What was it that caused all of this? Was it as simple as putting that beater’s club back in his hand again? Or was it something else?

“Right,” Ron said, taking the broom from his brother. As soon as he had it in his hands, though, his questions were dismissed. And when he was airborne, he couldn’t remember what he was thinking about at all.

***

 

“That looks great, now I think right spirals into a dive and then back up. Go now!” Viktor called out to his team as they flew through another series of drills. Alexander was sitting on the bench drinking raspberry soda as he watched the players dip and turn and dive, then pull back up into the sky.

“Pull harder to the right, Harrison! Use more control, Lloyds! You need to pull harder when the wind is coming from the north!”

George approached the pitch with his broomstick in hand. “I’m late,” he said. “Sorry.”

Viktor looked over and his face lit up. “Not at all! I am very happy you came, Mr. Weasley.”

“You can call me George. There are too many of us to just call me Weasley.”

“Very well. I shall call you George.” He smiled and gestured toward the sky. “Are you ready to join them, George? They are practicing formations, tricks of flight and maneuvers.”

George nodded, kicked off the ground and joined the rest of the team in their flight. Some of the players were quite skilled on the broomsticks and flew very neatly, cutting tight turns and quick lifts after their dives. Others were barely keeping up. But, he thought, that was what was to be expected in a community-league team.

The most surprising thing to George was Viktor Krum. As far as he could remember, he’d never heard of a coach that spent his time on the ground. Most coaches would bark orders from broomsticks up in the sky near the stands or at the end of the pitch. 

As soon as he fell into formation and started on the drills, though, all other thoughts left his mind. The routine was so refreshing, so familiar that he hardly had to think about it at all. His body knew what to do. One moment he was high into the clouds, then he cut a hard right-spiral down and then dove until he was only a few feet from the ground, then back up into the clouds again.

“Excellent, George! Now fall in behind Harrison. She’s the one in the orange jumper.”

Harrison smiled at George as he came right up behind her over the south side of the pitch. “Hullo,” she said. “Emily Harrison.”

“George Weasley. Hullo.”

“You’re...” She turned her head so she could see the left side of George’s face. “Oh, it’s you. I’m... I’m honored to meet you, sir.”

George was surprised by the way she addressed him. Then again, he supposed it wasn’t every day she met someone who had received an Order of Merlin. “Just call me George, okay?” The last thing he needed was to be reminded of the war up here above the Quidditch pitch.

“Doubleback-flat drills!” Viktor called from below. “Now go!”

Harrison led George from the south end of the pitch to the north where they split up. She turned to the right, he turned to the left, they dove, then curled back toward the north with Harrison flying directly above George. They flew around the center ring, split up again and held positions on the right and left rings.

It was sheer bliss for George. Viktor had been right. This was what he was meant to do. And for once he could just concentrate on flying and having fun.

The practice lasted another hour and the team members were all very welcoming to George. This was far more relaxed than playing on the Gryffindor team. Most of the players had regular jobs during the day and could only spend a couple hours on Thursdays and Saturdays playing Quidditch. They ranged in age from 22 to 45 and came from all different backgrounds.

“You look good up there, George,” Viktor said, handing George a towel. “Like a man who has found his dream.”

George wiped the sweat from his face and chuckled. “I don’t know about that. It’s this broomstick. She can really fly! Do you want to have a go at it?” He held the broomstick out toward Viktor.

The rest of the team went silent. They had all been chatting amongst themselves, changing out of their protective gear and back into their cloaks and robes, but as soon as George finished speaking, everyone was still.

“No, thank you,” Viktor said, smiling back at George. “I will leave the flying of that broomstick to you.” He turned toward his son. “Come Alexander, It’s time to go home.”

George looked down at his hand and the shiny white broomstick. Had he said something wrong? Was there something wrong with offering Viktor the chance to ride it? Something in the back of his mind was needling him, but he wasn’t sure what it was. He stood there for a moment, lost in his own thoughts, starting to feel insecure.

“Weasley,” Viktor called out from the exit of the pitch. “May I speak with you for a moment?”

George snapped out of his thoughts and went over to where Krum and his son were waiting. “Yes?”

“Would you... Would you like to come home with us? For dinner. If you are not having other plans.” Alexander was smiling up at George, slurping his raspberry soda. “I was not going to ask you in front of the other players. It might seem... oh, how would you say it...”

“Untoward? Suspicious? Odd?” George offered.

“Maybe, yes. You see, I do not have many friends here and I am liking your company.” Viktor stuffed his hands in his pockets and smiled.

It was charming. There was no denying that Viktor was a reasonably handsome man. But it was more in the way that he looked and smiled with confidence than his physical features. And that was something that George had seen precious little of in recent years.

“Yes, I would like that. If I can floo-call home and let them know I won’t be back for dinner. My family, they worry, you see?”

Viktor chuckled and took Alexander’s hand. “I had noticed.”

 

***

 

The Krum household was outside of Leeds. They lived in a small cottage in the middle of a grove of evergreens. Just to the south of the cottage was a small pond with reeds and ducks and some very noisy frogs. They flooed from the Dragon’s Clutch directly into the living room.

“This is my home,” Viktor said. “It is small, but a good size for Alexander and myself. There is this room and the kitchen with our dining table. And over there, two rooms. One for myself and one for Alexander. The bathroom is in the back, by the kitchen.”

It was sparsely decorated, but what was there was wonderful! A firebolt and Nimbus 3000 were hung above the fireplace with trophies all along the mantle. Above two of the trophies, golden snitches were hovering in place, as if they were tethered there.

Dinner was simple, but wonderful. Viktor was a natural in the kitchen, slicing potatoes and onions, then sauteeing them with eggs and topping it with cheese. This he served on top of a pile of shredded boiled beets and cabbage. 

Alexander had set the table and ran off to wash his hands and face before dinner. Viktor handed George a glass of red wine. “To new friends,” he said, clinking his own glass against George’s.

“To... new friends,” George said and took a sip. 

“You are not uncomfortable here, are you? My home is your home. Please, sit.” Viktor motioned toward one of the chairs and sat on the one next to it. “You are a very good flier, quite graceful.”

“Why don’t you fly?” George asked. As soon as he said it, he realized that it sounded very blunt, perhaps even tactless. “I’m sorry. Forget I asked.”

“No, it is okay. Since my accident, I do not fly. It is not uncommon for those who are injured and fall a great distance. I was lucky to have lived.”

“Survived,” George said softly.

“Yes, very good. Please correct my English, or I will not learn. I was lucky to have survived.” 

Alexander came back and climbed up into his chair. “Pa-pa make it higher?” He asked. Viktor transfigured the chair a few inches taller, now Alexander came right up to the edge of the table. “Thank you,” he said.

“Alexander’s English is better than mine. I think he’s learning from the players on the team.”

The food was delicious and George didn’t hesitate to say so. “It’s a very good team. Harrison is a great flier, although she’s a little timid. She could pull a lot harder and get more speed out of that broomstick. After all, that model of Nimbus is only about three years old.”

“That’s what I was saying to her. She could be a great chaser. I wonder why she has never tried out for the Harpies. They are always looking for good chasers,” Viktor replied.

The two talked about Quidditch all during dinner. George talked about the drills and what kind of improvements could be made to the routines. Viktor told George about the league and how the standings worked.

Neither of them talked about their own Quidditch careers. It was as if neither wanted to open themselves up to re-living their experiences.

When dinner was done, Alexander helped George with the washing up. “Pa-pa likes you,” Alexander said as he handed George a soapy plate.

“What was that?” George swallowed a knot in his throat. “What did you say?”

“Pa-pa likes you. He’s never brought a friend here before. I have a friend come to play sometimes, but never pa-pa. So, it’s good because I like you, too.”

“Good,” George said. “Because I like you, too. And I don’t have many friends, either.”

“Do you like trains?”

“I suppose I do. Why?”

“I like trains. Someday I’ll ride on a train. Pa-pa has never taken me on a train yet. We always floo places or walk. But I think I like trains best.”

George thought about this for a moment. Sure, floo-travel was convenient and walking necessary, but to never use any other form of transportation? What about apparating or portkeys? He had never heard of a talented wizard like Viktor Krum who only used floo-travel to get around.

Alexander chattered on about trains and how they worked and how wonderful they were. George finished up the dishes in silence, thinking about Viktor. When they had finished, Viktor came back into the kitchen.

“Now it is time for Alexander Karkaroff-Krum to go to bed.”

“Pa-pa, I’m not tired,” Alexander whined.

“Then you can go into your bed and read until you are tired. But it is quiet time and bedtime for you. Go.” Viktor patted Alexander’s behind. “Say goodnight to George.”

“Goodnight, George,” Alexander said cheerfully and then ducked into his bedroom.

“I will be only a moment,” Viktor said to George. He followed his son into the other room.

George went up to the trophies on the mantle and started reading the inscriptions.

_Viktor Krum - Fastest Seeker in the League_

_Viktor Krum - Most Valuable Player Quidditch World Cup_

_Viktor Krum - Seeker Bulgaria National Quidditch Team_

_Viktor Krum - Player of the Year 1994_

“It was another lifetime,” Viktor’s low, velvety voice said softly behind George. “So long ago. Still, there are things I need to remember.”

George didn’t know what to say to that. He had been wallowing in memories for so long and now it seemed he was starting to avoid them. But somehow Viktor was able to make peace with his past.

“My wounds are pretty deep,” George said. He wasn’t sure if he said it to Viktor or to himself. “I don’t know if I want to remember them, but I know I don’t want to forget.”

Viktor handed George his wineglass and re-filled it. “I think we have much in common, my friend. I hope soon you can find your balance, too.”

George finished his glass of wine and ran his thumb around the edge. He was curious about so many things, but didn’t know how to ask. He wasn’t sure if he should ask at all, but he just had to know.

“Alexander told me that you only floo and walk. He’s never been on a train before. Do you... why don’t you apparate, or portkey?”

Viktor let out a long sigh. He downed his wine and set the glass on the table by the sofa and sat down. After a few moments, George went and sat next to him.

“If I tell you my story, I want you to do something for me. It’s a fair exchange. I’ll tell you and you will play beater in next week’s game.”

George paused. “I... I don’t know if I can.”

“If we do not have a second beater, East Leeds will have to forfeit this game.”

He thought about Harrison, Lloyds, Erickson, Messinger and all of the others who were up there flying with him. It was just for one game. A community-league game at that. “All right,” George said, “I will do my best. Can’t promise I’ll be any good.”

“Hah! Very good, then!” Viktor said cheerfully. “Now, I hope you will not think less of me. My accident, I take it you did not read of it?”

“No. I was... I wasn’t reading much news at the time.”

“It was bad. Very bad, actually. Everything was aligned wrongly. I was so close to catching it, you see? So close. I was flying very high and the clouds had just cleared away, so I could see the glint of the sun on the snitch. Do you know that when you are so close to grasping it, there is a feeling that comes across like nothing else in the world. You’d do anything to hold that gold in the palm of your hand. Anything at all. So, I leaned forward, one hand out and the other hand I was holding onto my broomstick - that Firebolt there.”

George looked up above the mantle at the broomstick mounted in the place of honor.

“I didn’t see the bludger. It was heading straight for me, going faster than usual because it had just swung around and was flying up.” Viktor took a deep breath. “It hit me squarely in the back, breaking my spine. Three vertebrae were crushed. And then I fell. The other team had just scored a point, so the crowd was cheering so loudly, nobody heard my call for help.”

George cringed. It was a Quidditch player’s worst nightmare. Few accidents happened like this, but when they did, it was always tragic. “How did you survive?”

“I fell into the grove of trees at the end of the stands. The branches of the trees broke more bones, but they also broke my fall. Unfortunately, nobody saw where I fell. I lay on the ground for almost an hour before the mediwizards came for me.”

He had been right - Viktor was very lucky to have survived. George put his hand on Viktor’s arm. “You don’t have to tell the rest if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s best you know.” Viktor took out his wand and cast finite incantatem. “My legs do not work. Only with a special mobilius charm. The healers could not repair my spinal cord. Only the bones. And they taught me this charm so that I could walk, but I cannot use any magical transportation. Only floo. Somehow floo powder is not affected by the magic. Any other magical transportation and it will negate the spell. I would land someplace and crumple to the ground. Or board the Knight Bus and lose all mobility in my legs until I reach my destination? No. I will not do that when I can travel safely by floo.”

“And flying?”

“My legs would be useless. I could not land. I do not know if I could even take off.” Viktor shrugged. He lifted one of his legs and dropped it, watching it fall to the floor, his foot turned on its side. “You see? I lose half of myself in one day. The upper half of me is fine. Legs and feet? Not fine at all. Useless without the spell.”

“And you have to refresh the spell often?”

“It lasts a few hours. Then yes, I must refresh. When I start to feel dizzy or tired.”

George nodded. “Are you sure you can’t use the charm while you’re flying?”

“I have tried. Flying uses a form of mobilization magic. The charm I must use on my legs is very powerful. It will not work. Thank you for asking. Earlier today, thank you for offering to let me fly, too. If it were possible, I would have accepted your offer.” Viktor took George’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. He let go and picked up his wand again, cast the mobilius charm and straightened out his foot. “Now, I will see you Saturday, yes? With your new club.”

“Yes, of course.” George could still feel Viktor’s hand around his own. That gesture - that touch had felt so good, he could feel his heart hammering in his chest. In fact, the more George thought about it, the more he realized that _that_ was the real issue. He needed to feel. It had been so long since he’d felt anything but numbness and depression. And now, in the matter of a week, this one person - two people, for Alexander was just as full of energy and just as charming - had turned him back into something that could pass as a normal human being again.

What’s more, his mind had begun to churn out ideas. What could he do to help? There had to be something that could be done. After all, they were Wizards. A simple mobilization charm seemed like such a lazy way of solving the problem.

“I should probably go,” George said softly. “Mum worries about me. Well, everyone does, actually. They’ll all be sitting around the hearth waiting for my return, I reckon.”

Viktor laughed. “Then you must go. Yes having a large family is wonderful, is it not? To have so many people care for you, it is a great thing.” He stood and went over to the fireplace. “The floo powder is in this trophy. The one I appreciate the least.”

George looked at the shiny bronze label on the trophy. It was the most recent one - from only a year ago. It must have been the year he was injured.

“Thank you for inviting me today,” George said, holding out his hand. 

Viktor took it and gave it a light squeeze, then grasped it with his other hand, as well. “Thank you for accepting. I know I don’t have much to offer, but what’s mine is yours. You may visit anytime. Other than Thursdays and Saturdays, I am always here.” 

They stood there for what felt like several minutes just smiling and extending that very long handshake. Neither of them wanted to break the moment.

Finally, George spoke. “I really do have to go.”

Viktor let go and let out an embarrassed chuckle. “Of course. And I will see you Saturday?”

“Wouldn’t miss it!”

 

***

 

Just as he had predicted, the whole family was waiting for him when he got home. Molly was trying to look as if she wasn’t worried, knitting away while looking up every now and then to check the floo. Ron was standing by the bookshelf, trying to find something to do without actually pulling down a book to read it. Ginny and Hermione were playing a game of Wizard’s chess, Charlie was playing with his pet winged serpent and Arthur was sitting in his armchair, reading the Prophet. 

There were, by far, too many people crammed into that small room and each one of them was turned so that they could easily see the fireplace.

So, when George skidded out, he was under the scrutiny of almost the whole clan. “Hullo, what are all of you doing here?”

Everyone started talking at once, making it impossible to understand what anyone was saying. They all fell silent.

“Did you have a good time, dear?” Molly finally asked.

“Ye-s. It was loads of fun. Flying, then dinner.” George glanced around the room.

Molly was trying to bite her tongue.

Charlie was paying too close attention to his pet.

Ginny and Hermione were both just staring down at the chess board.

Ron looked quite upset with his hand in a fist.

Arthur turned the page of the newspaper. “Oh look! There’s a new Wizarding village in Linconshire. Good for them!”

“Weeeell then, I guess I’m off to bed,” George said, brushing some soot off his trousers. “I want to get some practice in tomorrow. Looks like I’ll be playing on Saturday. If anyone’s interested in coming to watch.”

“You’re going to play now, are you?” Ron grumbled cynically.

“Ronald!” Hermione and Molly both scolded together. “I think it’s wonderful that you’re playing again,” Molly said, smiling.

“Oh, Hermione, I wonder if I could talk to you about something else. It’s an idea that I have for... well, something. Maybe tomorrow? Down at my workshop in the shop in Diagon Alley.”

Molly dropped her knitting, Charlie’s head snapped toward George and Ron spun around to face George, completely surprised. George had not been back to the shop, not mentioned it and in fact, avoided walking past it since Fred’s death. Ron had taken care of it initially, then Bill saw to its closing and now maintained it. George still owned the shop and everything inside was the same. Preservation charms were wonderful that way. But the family just accepted the fact that George would never go back there again. It was one of the reasons everyone was so nervous when George went out to buy the new broomstick and club.

“Are you free tomorrow? You don’t mind me borrowing her for a few hours, do you Ron?”

“What?! What are you doing? Is this some kind of joke?” Ron finally snapped. “Were you just playing at being upset all that time? Because if you were, it was a pretty lousy joke.”

“Ron, please,” Hermione said calmly. “Of course I’m free tomorrow. If there’s something you want to do--”

“No, wait. Ron, Let me make this clear. There’s something I need to do. And I’m being serious. I wasn’t faking anything. It’s just that sometimes you don’t know what you need until someone else shoves it in your face and tells you to take it.”

“Good for you, lad,” Arthur chimed in. “You have a new mission in life? That’s perfect. Ron, you can keep to yourself for a while and let your brother do what he needs to do.”

“Thanks, dad.” George smiled and waved to everyone. “Right, so I’m off to bed. I’ll be down at the workshop around nine.”

 

***

 

 

George walked past the shop and almost turned back to go home again. No matter how great he felt the night before with his plans and ideas for a device to help Viktor, standing in front of the shop he and Fred had owned and worked was just too much.

He walked past the entrance on Diagon Alley and turned the corner. “George?” Hermione called.

“Aah, Hermione. Yes, erm, I’m just going ‘round to the side door.”

“Great. I’ll come with you. Then you can tell me what this “something” is that requires my help.” She looked happy enough - possibly because she had a new project to occupy her mind.

“Yes, well, you know about Viktor’s accident?” George unlocked the back door and held it open for her.

“I did read about it, yes. It was apparently very bad, but he seems like he’s recovered well enough.”

George led her into the back workshop and nearly choked. This was a lot more difficult than he’d expected. There were the two matching workbenches over in the corner by the door leading to the store and a pair of drafting tables along the nearest wall. George could practically hear his brother laughing and chattering on about his latest invention. There were even plans on the drafting table that they’d never gotten around to building.

“George?” Hermione put her hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t you tell me about what you want to do.”

George took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He needed to focus on the task at hand. “Viktor was injured and it is bad. He uses a mobilius charm to walk. That’s why he can’t fly or take any sort of wizarding transportation other than floo travel.”

Hermione gasped. “Viktor... can’t fly?”

“He can’t even walk without constantly refreshing the charm.” George pulled out his old stool, then motioned for Hermione to sit on the one opposite him, refusing to think about whose stool that was. “I was thinking about it and maybe we could help him. If the problem is with the charm, then what if we create an artifact for him to use, instead. I know that magic, when it’s put _into_ an object often doesn’t interfere with magic being cast, right?”

“You mean, put the spell into an object he can carry on him?” Hermione looked off into the distance, lost in thought. “Or something he could wear. A belt, for example, if we somehow created a similar spell that could be put into it that would work the same way - maybe if we started with the mobilius charm that he’s using and...”

“He said it was too powerful and interfered with regular magic. So, I thought something similar to charming dad’s car. Or even a broomstick. It’s more intuitive and adjusts to what you want it to do rather than constantly needing directions.” George reached over and pulled out a clean parchment and a quill. “See, if we start with a basic incantation like this...” He started scribbling out runes and words.

Hermione hadn’t seen him this excited in years. It was encouraging and, she thought, amazing that he could have changed so quickly. His face had more color, his eyes weren’t as dark and sunken as they had been. He actually had a purpose in his life.

“You really care about him, don’t you?”

George looked up from what he was doing. He was silent for a few seconds and then let out a sigh. “I do. He’s the first person who’s treated me like... like I’m an actual human being and not half of a pair. He bought me that broomstick and made me go fly again. It didn’t matter to him that I might think of Fred or miss him, or feel awkward. He just said... he said that I just had to do it.”

“And he was right,” Hermione said softly.

“And he was right.”

George sat there for a minute looking at his scribbles on the parchment. He knew he could make this work. Hermione was just as clever as he was and between the two of them he was positive they could figure it out. Because Viktor deserved it. Alexander deserved it. His pa-pa should be able to take him on a train.

“We can do this. I suppose I ought to start by getting a belt,” George said at last. “You look over these notes while I’m out.”

Hermione watched him leave, then looked at the parchment in her hand. “Good heavens! There’s no way I could possibly read this scribbling.” She chuckled. “Oh, George, you have got it bad, haven’t you?”

 

***

 

The weather was perfect for Quidditch. It was especially nice because the stands were filled with spectators and they all seemed as if they were determined to have a good time.

George had been up into the wee hours of the morning working on the belt. Hermione had stayed awake until they had a working charm, but eventually transfigured the other drafting table into a sofa and fell asleep. So, by the time they arrived at the field, the rest of the team had been there practicing for nearly an hour.

“I’m late, aren't I?” George asked breathlessly as he ran up to Viktor. “I’m sorry, coach, I was... hah hah... I was working... working late and...”

Viktor patted him on the back. “This is not the European League. Last month Killian’s daughter had the flu and so the match had to be postponed half an hour.” He looked closely at George’s face - his bloodshot eyes and the dark circles under them. “But no, if you are too tired, you do not have to play today.”

George waved his hand in the air. “I’m fine. Better than fine. I’m ready to play.” He pointed over to the stands where his whole family was taking their seats. “I’m not going to let them down. Or you.”

“Then go,” Viktor smiled and nodded. “The game will begin when we are all in position.”

George ran out into the pitch with club in one hand and broom in the other, mounted the broomstick and kicked off into the sky. As he flew into position, he looked across to the other beater on the other side of the field.

It should have felt strange looking across at someone who was not his brother, but somehow it actually felt okay today. Maybe it was the fact that he wasn’t looking at a team of Gryffindors, but a group of all different sorts of witches and wizards.

It didn’t matter who won or lost this game. This wasn’t about that. This was about people who wanted to fly - wanted to play. Everyone had their own reason why they weren’t on a professional team, but everyone also just loved Quidditch.

George smiled. He twirled the club in his hand and nodded to his teammates.

The snitch and bludgers were released, the whistle blew and the quaffle was sent soaring high into the air.

George was one of the first to start. He flew straight out toward his team’s seeker and batted the bludger away, sending it flying far off to the left. Jenkins and Killian flew out to intercept the quaffle. Harrison was quick on their tails, chasing after one of the opposing team’s players.

Meanwhile, Sikes, the other beater playing that day, was doing a fantastic job protecting them. George’s main concern was protecting the seeker and keeper. He went back and forth between the one and the other. 

“He’s in his element again,” Arthur said proudly. “I think this was just the thing, don’t you?”

Molly had been cheering them on with Ginny and Harry at her side. Even Ron was getting into the game, cheering and whooping when the East Leeds team scored another goal. 

The opposing team was good, though. They had three players who were fast and sharp. The two chasers and one of their beaters could have played for almost any team in the league at one point in their lives. 

“He’s flying remarkably well for someone who had almost no sleep last night,” Ron said as the two seekers zipped past them. “What were you doing at all hours of the ni-- GOOOOOO get it!!”

The East Leeds seeker dove forward, just barely missing the snitch as the tiny gold ball flew straight up into the air again.

“We were working on a project, Ron. I told you that. You should be happy that he’s working again. No matter the reason why.” Hermione turned her attention back toward George. He was flying beautifully, hitting away the bludgers like a professional. 

In the end, the East Leeds team lost by a mere ten points, but everyone was in high spirits. Sikes and Harrison had to go home right away and the Whitehaven team was heading off to celebrate almost as soon as they had congratulated the East Leeds team on their well-played game.

When the rest of the team dispersed, George stayed back as Viktor began packing up the equipment. “You played very well today,” Viktor said as he bolted down the second bludger. He didn’t look up at George.

“Ta mate. Or should I call you coach? It seems a little strange to--”

“You were beautiful.” Viktor stood and turned to face George. “It has been many years since I’ve seen someone fly so gracefully.” For once, he wasn’t smiling. Viktor’s expression and tone were utterly sincere. 

George stood, dumbfounded. His heart was beating just as fast as it had been the other night. And again, it seemed as if they couldn’t break the moment. “Thank you,” he said. George could hear his family coming down from the stands and across the pitch. “Viktor, I--”

“George! You were wonderful!” Molly said as she ran straight for him and hugged him tightly. “You played so well!” Molly shifted her attention to the gentleman standing directly behind them, “Oh, hello Mr. Krum.” She turned back to George “I thought you were the best player up there and I’m not just saying that as your mother, am I, Arthur?”

“You played very well, indeed. Tell me, that new broomstick of yours, is it entirely made of birch? Even the twigs?” Arthur craned his neck to get a closer look at the broom. 

“Want to ride it, dad?” George held out the Dasher.

“Don’t you dare!” Molly scolded. “George, dear, you know better than to tempt him like that.”

Behind them, Viktor laughed. He turned to the bench where Alexander was sitting playing with a toy train, and held out his hand. “Alexander, come. You must meet George’s family.”

“Oh, Mr. Krum, is this your son? Ronald told me all about him. It’s wonderful what you’ve done.” Molly beamed at the sight of the young boy.

“Yes, this is Alexander.” Viktor picked up his son. 

Alexander smiled and held out his toy. “I have a train!”

“Oh, dear,” Arthur groaned. 

“Here we go,” Ron sighed.

“I should have seen it coming,” George murmured.

Molly almost squealed with delight. “You two simply MUST come back to the Burrow for dinner. No, I will not take “no” for an answer”

Hermione, Harry and Ginny started chuckling.

Viktor didn’t know what to say. “Mum won’t let you say no,” George advised. “So, I guess tonight you’ll have to let someone else do the cooking.”

“Then I suppose I will accept. Thank you for your generous offer.” Viktor put Alexander down again and picked up the Quidditch case. 

George noticed that he looked nervous and then realized why. “Oh, yes, ah... Viktor and Alexander and I will floo home in a little while. He probably needs to go home and put his things away. Isn’t that right?”

Viktor sighed. “Yes.”

“Very well, then. But don’t take too long about it. I’ll start dinner as soon as we get home.”

Harry and Ginny were the first to apparate, then Arthur and Molly. Ron looked as if he wanted to say something, but Hermione put her hand on his arm. “Come along Ron. You can extend the table to fit two more.” And with one more crack, they were gone.

And George was left alone with Viktor and Alexander again.

“I do not like to mislead. But thank you for what you did for me.” Viktor straightened his shoulders and nodded at George.

“Anytime,” George said. He leaned forward and reached for the Quidditch case. “Here, let me carry this.” In taking the case, George didn’t realize just how close he would be to Viktor.

And Viktor couldn’t seem to let go of the case or move away. “George, I think I should tell you--”

“No, I don’t think you should right now.” George interrupted in a tone just above a whisper. Somehow he managed to take another breath and swallow down the lump in his throat. “Let’s go drop this off and get back to the Burrow before someone from my family comes after me.” 

“I see,” Viktor said, deflated.

“And then you can tell me later tonight after you put Alexander to bed.”

 

***

 

Dinner at the burrow was utter mayhem. Ginny and Harry helped with the cooking and getting the table ready. Percy stopped in and yet another place had to be set at the table. Charlie’s pet serpent got out of its cage and was flying around the kitchen until he managed to immobilize it. Of course, this seemed like the most amusing thing in the world to young Alexander who was giggling and laughing the whole time. Arthur cornered Viktor and began asking him about what Muggle life was like in Bulgaria. And Hermione had cornered Ron and was talking to him in whispers.

George just stood back and watched it all with wonder. There was so much life in that room and all of it in some way or another belonged to him. It wasn’t like the old days. There were different people here, his family was older and not the same as they used to be. But that was okay. It didn’t have to be like the old days because...

“Because it’s different,” he whispered. He wasn’t the same person he used to be, either. George thought about it for a moment. He looked across the room at Viktor, who was still talking to his father. “Because I’m different.” Viktor looked over at him and smiled and nodded. George’s face turned bright red. “And in more ways than one, it seems.”

When dinner was laid out on the table, George was seated on the long bench next to Viktor with Percy on his left. He could feel the heat from Viktor’s thigh pressed against his own. Three different conversations were going on all at once and George couldn’t seem to concentrate on any of them. Halfway through the meal, Viktor brought his hand down and placed it on George’s thigh. George looked over at him, but he was still engrossed in conversation with Arthur about Bulgarian cars.

Taking a deep breath,and looking around to make sure nobody was watching, George brought his own hand down and placed it on top of Viktor’s. Viktor turned his hand up and interlaced their fingers, all the time keeping up his conversation.

George smiled and turned to Harry. “So, do you think you’d want to join a community league team? It’s just two days a week - plenty of time left for your wand-making.”

 

***

 

“Is he asleep?” George asked. He had been fiddling with the snitch that hovered above one of the trophies, waiting as patiently as he could for Viktor to put Alexander to bed.

“After spending the evening with your family, I don’t think he could have stayed awake even if a banshee were screaming in his room.” Viktor closed the door to Alexander’s room and walked over to the fireplace, standing close to George, resting one arm on the mantle.

“No, I don’t suppose he could.” George took his hand off the snitch and brought it down on top of Viktor’s hand.

“So, that thing that I wanted to tell you, I don’t think I need to say it, do I?”

“No, I don’t think you do.” George brought his other hand up and placed it on Viktor’s neck.

“Good. Because I am not good at saying such things.” Viktor turned his head and placed a kiss on the inside of George’s wrist. He brought his other arm up around George’s waist and pulled him close, then leaned in and buried his face in George’s neck.

Words failed him. George wrapped his arms around Viktor and held him as close as he possibly could. He could feel the other man’s trembling and soon felt moisture seep through his collar. “Viktor,” he whispered, “are you all right?”

“I... yes. I didn’t think it was possible. But you are here and this is real, yes?”

George pulled his head back and kissed Viktor’s cheek, then placed a soft kiss on his lips. Viktor responded immediately, as if he had been deprived for so long. His kiss was tender, yet demanding. George had only kissed girls before and this was so completely different. It was stronger, more intense and it just felt so right.

His body was responding to the kiss, as well. It had literally been years since he felt this kind of desire and to feel the hardness of the body pressed against him gave him a different sort of thrill.

“I’m supposed to be working in my workshop tonight,” George said, nipping at Viktor’s lip.

“I hope that I am not keeping you from something important,” Viktor replied, returning the kisses, this time on George’s neck.

“Oh, it’s important, but I think even if I went there, I wouldn’t get anything done... oh, _Merlin_ , Viktor...” George raked his fingers through Viktor’s hair, holding his face close. He could feel Viktor trembling a little more.

“I am sorry... can we move to the couch?” Viktor asked, holding on tightly to George. “My... my legs. I need to refresh and my wand is...”

George caught Viktor up in his arms and helped him to the sofa. “Don’t worry about it. I want you horizontal, not vertical,” George whispered, stretching out on top of Viktor.

“I still cannot believe you can desire me in this way,” Viktor said, smiling up at George. 

“To be perfectly honest, I can’t believe it, either. But I do. And I have since... well, since the first time I went flying. Now tell me, do you feel... I mean, when you get hard...” 

Viktor pulled George down for another deep kiss. “I have been hard thinking about you since the first time I saw you fly. And it has meant every day a longer shower.”

George reached down and unbuckled Viktor’s belt, opened their flies and reached in Viktor’s pants to stroke his cock. It felt wonderful. Viktor was thicker than he was and what felt like the perfect length. At the first touch, Viktor threw his head back and hissed with pleasure. “Please, more,” he begged.

He didn’t need to be asked twice. This was something completely new for George, but he had a good idea of what he could do. Moving down the sofa, he pulled down Viktor’s trousers and pants, releasing his cock. It was deep pink in color, already weeping at the tip. George leaned down and licked it off, tasting the saltiness and thinking that it wasn’t at all unpleasant. He went down again and this time took the tip into his mouth, peeling back the rest of the foreskin and running his tongue around the crown.

“Aahhh... George,” Viktor moaned. He had no movement in his legs at this point - the charm had worn off completely, but he could still feel every sensation. “It is so good... we should... to my bed.”

George pulled back and stood. He reached down and lifted Viktor up in his arms, carrying him into his bedroom. He gently set Viktor down on the bed and then began undressing himself. Viktor propped himself up on his elbows and watched as George removed his shirt, then trousers and pants and finally socks. “You are amazing. So beautiful and... perfect.” Viktor said softly.

“I’m missing an ear, you know?” George pulled off Viktor’s trousers and pants as Viktor removed his shirt.

“Imperfections create perfection, yes?” Viktor stretched out his arms, inviting George to lay on top of him. “And if you were not injured, someone else might have claimed you and you would not be mine.”

George curled up in Viktor’s embrace, “I could say the same thing about you.”

“Yes, so that only proves that this was meant to be.” Viktor pulled George in for another kiss as he reached down to grasp George’s cock. He brought it next to his own and began stroking them together.

It was almost too much for George. He’d gone so long without any sort of physical affection, that he knew he wouldn’t be able to last like this. “Viktor... Viktor... I can’t...”

“It’s all right,” he whispered, “let yourself go.” Viktor quickened the pace and began nibbling on the scar tissue where George’s ear had been. “My beautiful flier.”

George bucked into Viktor’s hand as he came. He nuzzled his face in Viktor’s neck as his whole body was shuddering. Viktor held him close until he was still again, then pumped his own cock a few more times until he found his release. 

They lay there for a few moments, breathless, stick and sweaty. George looked up into Viktor’s face and smiled. There were no words for that moment. He leaned into Viktor’s body and smiled. It felt so good to be happy. He felt as if he was truly alive again.

Viktor pulled the covers up over them, summoned his wand and cast a cleansing charm. “You will sleep with me tonight. And tomorrow, we will share the good news with Alexander. And if you decide to tell your family, I will go, too.”

George was only half-listening. He was so high in his post-coital bliss, someone could have informed him that the world was on fire and he wouldn’t have even noticed. “Mmmmm. Tomorrow.” He curled up into Viktor’s warm body and fell asleep.

 

***

 

When he woke up the next morning, the first thought he had was that he was very warm and very comfortable. He had been sleeping with his head resting on Viktor’s shoulder with his body stretched out along his right side. Viktor was gently rubbing his arm and every once in a while, would turn to press a kiss to the top of his head.

Then he heard a page turn and smelled the coffee. Turning his head, he looked up. Viktor had the Daily Prophet morning edition hovering over the bed and was reading the news while he let George sleep in.

“You are awake now,” Viktor said quietly. “Would you like some coffee or tea?”

George smiled and pushed himself up. “No, I’m fine. I hope I didn’t flatten you with my dead weight.”

“Not at all,” Viktor laughed. “Just as when you are flying, you are as light as feathers.”

George sat up in bed and shook his head. “Not likely. By the way, what time is it?”

“I would think it’s half past ten. Alexander has had breakfast and is at his friend Peter’s house.”

“Oh, bloody hell,” George groaned. “I was supposed to be working in my workshop last night and then go home. Everyone’s probably frantic.”

“Aah, yes.” Viktor levitated the newspaper to the bedside table and set his wand down. “If you must go, then you should go.”

George relaxed a little, looking down into Viktor’s face. “I don’t want to,” he said softly. “But I really should. I do have a lot of work to do, as well.”

Viktor brought his hand up to touch George’s face, then trailed it down his neck, shoulder and arm, finally taking his hand. “I understand.” He smiled. “You’ll come back tomorrow?”

George got out of bed and found his clothes. “Maybe. It depends on if I’m still alive after mum gets to me.” He paused as he was pulling on his trousers. “Oh, that’s right. Did you tell Alexander?”

Viktor laughed. “I had to say something when he came into our room this morning to tell me it was time for breakfast. Yes, I told him and then he told me he would like raspberry soda instead of milk.”

There was no way his family would be so accepting of this sort of relationship. Or was there? George thought about recent years and how difficult it had been to get by on a daily basis. His family would have given almost anything to see him this happy again. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a disaster, after all.

First, though, he had to get through today. George thought about what might be the best way to face them. In the end decided to just go to his workshop and send an owl.

Viktor got out of bed and dressed himself, as well. As George was buttoning his shirt, he felt Viktor’s arms wrap around his waist and place a warm kiss placed on the back of his neck. “You make me want to stay, Viktor Krum.”

“No, you need to go. That way when you return, it will be even better.” Viktor withdrew, ran one hand down George’s back and sat back on the bed.

After he was dressed, George went back to Viktor, kissed him again and turned to leave. “I’ll be back soon,” he promised.

 

***

 

When George arrived at the workshop, Hermione was waiting for him. “Hello,” she said in a soft and serious tone. “I wasn’t sure... well, none of us were sure if you’d be back.”

George took off his jacket and set it down on the workbench. “Of course I would. I have a mission, right?”

Hermione nodded. “Everyone was worried about you. I told them that you were probably working here all night and that they shouldn’t worry about you.” She went back to her notes about charms and magical devices. “I told them that I would come here and stay with you to make sure you were okay.”

“Then you were here all night?” George went over to the belt and ran his fingers along the buckle.

“I didn’t want to go back, because then they would go out looking for you. And I was afraid that if they went looking for you, they’d find you.” Hermione looked up at him with a half-grin. “You look great today. The ravished look is good on you.”

George sighed and rolled his eyes, laughing. “Oh, Merlin, Hermione. What am I going to do about this? It’s not like I can just march into the kitchen and tell everyone, can I?”

Hermione giggled. “Oh, good heavens! I can only imagine how _that_ would end. I think Ron would have a heart attack, not to mention your mother over the sudden loss of prospective grandchildren. Although, I must say, young Alexander is working in your favor there.”

“She really did fall for him, didn’t she?”

“Oh yes. The prospects of having a little boy running around the house again would probably overshadow the realization that one of her sons...”

The words wouldn’t come. Neither of them wanted to say it and, in the end, it seemed completely unnecessary. 

“Yes. Well, we should get working on this, anyway,” George offered.

“Oh, right. I think I’ve figured out the problem with the fine motor skills. Moving feet and toes, that is. The first charms we used were too basic and because the belt is _leather_ -”

“-The materials! He would have been walking like a cow.” George looked back at his notes and mulled this over. “So, what about a potion that would change the basic composition of the materials to something closer to human?”

Hermione looked up with a bright smile. “Or change it _into_ human? Perhaps we could use a variant of Polyjuice potion that would make the belt forget its origins and _think_ that it was a human being, then the second charm - the mobilius would work as if it were cast directly on a human!”

“It’s worth a try, right?”

Hermione grinned. “It will take a week to brew and that’s after we figure out the changes that need to be made. I should go look up some reference on the subject. There are some books in the library at 12 Grimmauld Place.”

George sighed. “You go there and do your research. I... I should probably go home.”

She came over and put her hand on George’s shoulder. “It’ll be alright. I think your mum and dad will understand. Ginny, too. Charlie will probably come around and Ron... well, just don’t worry about him. I’ll talk to him.”

“Right. Thanks, ‘Mione.”

“Anytime. Now, go. I want to get started on this as soon as possible.”

 

***

 

The kitchen at the Burrow was a cacophony of noise. George sat at one end of the long table while everyone around him was either arguing, yelling, shushing, or trying to calm everyone down. He was somewhat amazed at how seven words could have sent his whole family into complete mayhem. 

“I spent the night with Viktor Krum,” he had replied when they all asked where he was all night.

At first, they thought they had misunderstood. “You mean you spent the night at his house?” Molly asked.

“No, mum, I spent the night _with_ him.”

That was what really set everyone off. Ron was the most vocal. He insisted that George had been seduced or was under the influence of some sort of spell - perhaps even Imperius. Arthur told Ron to calm down and lower his voice. Molly kept asking if he was absolutely sure that’s what happened, or might it have been his imagination again. Charlie seemed to be the most resolved and suggested that in a family this large, the odds were in favor of at least one of them swinging that way. At which suggestion Ron became even more indignant. 

Ginny served tea and when she handed George his cup, she whispered to him, “Hang in there, brother. It’ll be alright in the end. And you certainly picked a fine one. Go you.”

The more of this went on, the more light-hearted George felt. He didn’t need to say a word - his family was doing all of the discussing for him. It was like watching a Quidditch match happening above his head.

Finally, when there seemed to be no end in sight, George gulped down the rest of his tea, stood up and announced that he was off to shower and take a nap. “Let me know when you’re finished discussing what I ought to be doing with my life. I’m curious as to whether what _you_ have decided is anything like what _I_ have planned.”

He tousled Ginny’s hair as he made his way up the stairs. “Thanks. And yes, I did pick a good one, didn’t I?”

 

***

 

It was early in the afternoon when Hermione found her epiphany. The sharp squeal coming from the library brought Harry running from upstairs. “What is it? Are you alright, ‘Mione?” He asked from the doorway.

“I think I’ve found an answer,” she said, grinning widely, “and it won’t take a week to brew! It’ll just take two more days. Instead of polyjuice, it’s... oh, nevermind. I need to send an owl to George. Is Pinkerton around?”

Ginny’s owl didn’t get along with Pig, so she kept her at Harry’s house. “She’s upstairs, I think, what, is it something to do with what he’s working on?”

Hermione bit her lip and took a deep breath. “Harry, you have to promise me you won’t breathe a word of this to anyone, alright?” 

Harry nodded. 

“And I’m only telling you because I think we might need your help, as well. Nobody can handle powerful magic like this like you can.” 

Harry blushed. “So, what is it?”

Hermione ushered Harry up the stairs with her. “It’s about Viktor Krum.”

 

***

 

When Hermione had owled him last Sunday and insisted he meet her at the workshop, George wasn’t sure if the news was good or bad. And when she arrived with Harry standing next to her, he didn’t know what to think.

But then she laid out her plan. “With Harry’s help, I think it would work. The potion would have to be administered by someone very similar to Viktor. And although I know you two are close, I think Harry would be a closer match.”

“It’s blood magic. Something that I’ve been through before,” Harry offered. “I mean, my magic - I - can resist the pull if it comes to that.”

It was a simple ritual, but one that George wouldn’t have dared try on his own. It did involve blood magic and Harry putting some of himself into the belt. The idea was that they would let it sit for two days, allow the potion to fully set into the material, then a series of charms would be placed on it to prepare it for the final mobilius charms. 

Now it was Tuesday, and the belt had remained untouched under glass since Sunday. George stared at it from across the room. If this worked, then it would mean that Viktor could fly again. It would mean that he could take his son on a train, or use a portkey, or apparate instead of floo everywhere.

If it worked.

Their previous attempts were not very successful. Aside from the one that made the wearer walk like a cow, there were two tries that did nothing and another one that only allowed the wearer to walk forward and only with great concentration and effort.

“This has to work,” George said, grinding his teeth.

He hadn’t gone back to see Viktor in those two days. He’d sent an owl message on Sunday after the ordeal with his family, explaining that he needed a few days to put out those fires and get some work done, but that he’d be at practice on Thursday.

Now, sitting here alone, he wondered if he ought to have at least visited.

“Hullo, George,” Harry said from the door. Hermione followed him into the workshop with Ginny and Ron in tow.

“Brought the whole gang with you?” George stood and went over to the workbench. “No offense to you, but what are all of you doing here?”

Hermione shoved Ron forward. “Ron has something to say to you.” He paused for a moment, then Hermione nudged him in the ribs.

“I’m sorry,” he grumbled. “It was just a bit of a shock, yeah?”

George leaned against the table and crossed his arms. “Yeah, for you and me both. Look, this is great and everything, but we do have work to do and time is of the essence.”

“Right, well, I was thinking,” Hermione came forward and leaned in to stare at the belt-under-glass, “for the last part, it would be better to have as many of you casting the charm as possible. Not me, I’ll be casting the stabilization charm at the same time all of you are casting Mobilius.”

“So, what is this for, Hermione? Are you going to tell us?” Ginny asked. 

Harry squeezed her hand tightly. “You’ll find out later.”

They all gathered around the workbench with Hermione and George standing on once side and the others on the opposite side.

“Erm,” Ron muttered, “it’s a belt.”

“Yes, Ron, it’s a belt,” Hermione sighed

“You always were such a bright one, weren’t you?” George teased.

“Hey, now, I was just wondering why you wanted us to cast Mobilius on a belt?

George pulled his wand from his sleeve and set it on the workbench. “It isn’t simply Mobilius,” he said. “It’s a different runic progression with inflections and a sharp flick.” George recited the charm. 

Ginny’s eyes widened and she gasped with realization of what they were doing. Harry squeezed her hand. “George,” she whispered.

George forced a smile at her and cleared his throat. “This is important and it has to be done today, right, Hermione?”

“It’s the new moon. Right now will be the time of least interference. We have the best chance of success if we do it today.”

Everyone readied their wands and nodded when they were ready to begin. George started with the first charm, then Harry and Ron and finally Ginny. Finally, Hermione began casting a spell that would stabilize the charms and seal them into the belt.

As the magic hit the belt a bright blue aura began to weave its way around the leather. The runes they were chanting embedded themselves into the belt in a dark blue hue. As the spell wound itself up and around the buckle, the inflections tied knots around the metal, leaving marks on the brass that made it look as if the metal had been braided.

Finally, the magic settled down. George, Harry, Ginny and Ron lowered their wands and a few moments later, Hermione finished casting and set hers down on the table.

“Did it work?” Ron asked.

“I don’t know,” Harry said. “We should find someone to test it out.”

“We could take it to St. Mungo’s,” Ginny offered. “I could. I still have another week of training left, I’m sure they’d let me--”

“It’s alright,” George said. “There’s someone down the street. I promised him if this worked, we’d make one for him, too. So, Harry, stick around yeah?”

George picked up the belt. It hardly weighed a thing. He could feel the magic thrumming through it even without actually putting it on. “I’ll be back soon,” he said as he headed out the door.

“Hermione, would you mind telling me what’s going on here?” Ron asked. “Again, it seems like I’m the only one who’s been kept in the dark.”

“Ron, you have to promise not to tell,” Harry said to him. 

 

***

 

Viktor felt alone. He knew that George had been working and he had the promise that he’d be at practice the next day, but not seeing him for nearly four days seemed like too long. It wouldn’t have been so bad if there were other things he could do, but a man in his situation didn’t have many options.

He sat there on the sofa watching Alexander play with his model trains. Viktor knew the boy wanted to ride on a real train. It would be the highlight of his young life. The last time they’d traveled anywhere by train was when they were leaving Bulgaria for England. Then they had taken the ship over the channel and Viktor flew them the rest of the way. He’d spent nearly all of his savings on passports, visas and immigration into England, the rest of it he spent on this little house.

Even if he was able to take the boy on a train, he didn’t have the money to go now. Especially since his only income was from those appearances at Quality Quidditch and the meager earnings he got from coaching.

Completely lost in thought, Viktor didn’t hear the rapping on his window. 

“Pa-pa!” Alexander cried. “It’s an OWL!” He clapped his hands and jumped up and down.

Viktor smiled and opened the window. The owl flew directly to the perch by the fireplace and held out its leg. Viktor removed the scroll that was attached. “You can give her a treat, Alexander,” he said and motioned to a small lacquer box on the table.

Viktor opened the scroll.

_My Dear Viktor,_

__

_I’m sorry I haven’t been by to visit you for the past few days, but I’ve been working long hours on a project and when I’m not at work, I’m at home answering a thousand questions._

__

_I’d like you to meet me out on the pitch this afternoon. And, if you don’t mind, could I borrow your Firebolt?_

__

_I’d like to share with you what has been occupying all of my time of late._

__

_Yours,_

_George_

__

_P.S. Bring Alexander._

Viktor smiled and patted the owl on her head. “You can go home now, pretty girl.” He opened the window again and waved her out. “Now, Alexander, we are going for a little visit. Come along, grab your cloak.”

As Alexander got himself ready to go, Viktor looked up above his mantle at the two brooms crossed there. “The firebolt?” He thought about what George would look like riding his Firebolt. Such a sleek, dark broom, much different from the Peregrine Dasher. “If he wants to ride a Firebolt, then he shall ride one,” Viktor muttered to himself as he levitated his old broomstick down into his hand. 

Taking Alexander’s hand, he grabbed a handful of floo powder and they stepped into the hearth. “The Dragon’s Clutch Inn,” he said firmly and threw the powder down at their feet.

 

***

 

 

George sat in the stands where he’d first watch the East Leeds team play just a few short weeks ago. Across his lap he had his new broomstick and two small paper packages tied up in twine. For nearly twenty minutes he just watched and waited.

Finally he saw them enter the pitch down near the team’s entrance. George mounted his broomstick and flew down to meet them, jumping off of the broom and running the last few feet. “Hullo,” he said, beaming. “I’m glad you came.” He looked down at the broomstick in Viktor’s hand. “And you brought your Firebolt.”

“I’m very happy to see you again, George. But what is this? You have your broom, why do you need--?”

“This one is too small to take Alexander for a ride.” George looked down and winked at the boy.

“Ooh! Pa-pa. Riding on a broomstick?” Alexander clapped his hands and giggled.

Viktor looked a little crushed. “Of course, if George is willing--”

“Actually, no.” He licked his bottom lip and smiled. “Here,” he said, handing Viktor the larger one of the two packages.

Viktor looked down at the package and then up at George’s face. “It is for me?”

“Yes.”

“This work you’ve been doing, it is for me?”

“Open it.” George’s tone was quiet and sincere. 

It was a little unnerving at first for Viktor, but then he took the package and felt how light it was. He could feel the magic inside, humming and casting a warm aura around his hands. Viktor removed the twine and paper. “It is a belt,” he said softly.

“Put it on,” George said softly.

Viktor handed the broomstick to George and removed his old belt, wrapping the new one around his waist. He pulled on his tunic to straighten it out and then looked up. “It weighs nothing,” he said.

“It does more than that,” George said with a wink and a smile. “Drop your Mobilius charm.”

Viktor’s heart leapt into his throat. He could feel his body trembling at the thought. “George? Do you mean--”

“Drop the charm, Viktor. Look, I’m here for you if you fall, right? But you won’t fall. Because I am a very very clever wizard and Hermione Granger is a very very clever witch and Harry Potter’s a bloody powerful wizard and I’ve got a couple of siblings who can’t keep their noses in their own business. So, what does that mean? It means that you’re going to trust me, drop that charm, then take your broom back and... and come fly with me.”

“Finite Incantatem,” Viktor said, his voice thick with emotion.

He stood there, holding Alexander’s hand. For a few seconds he could only stand, not believing that this was possible. He felt no pressure, no stress from the charm and yet he was standing. After a few more breaths he looked up at George and took back his Firebolt. “You... you are a miracle, George Weasley,” he whispered.

George leaned forward and touched Viktor’s face. “We have a lot in common, then.”

Viktor pulled him into an embrace so tight he could barely breathe. “Thank you,” he whispered, not trusting his voice.

“I want to see you fly,” George said softly.

Viktor laughed. He pulled away and twirled his Firebolt around at the ready. He threw his leg over the handle and kicked off the ground, hovering for just a moment, then he looked back and smiled before speeding off toward the other end of the pitch.

He felt as if he was alive again. Some people were meant to stay on the ground, but Viktor Krum was meant to fly. 

George crouched down and brought Alexander close to him. “You see? That’s what your pa-pa can do. He’s one of the best fliers the world has ever known.”

“He _is_ the best!” Alexander agreed, nodding, but never taking his eyes off of his father.

Viktor flew down low to the ground and came up right beside George and Alexander. “Now, I will take my son for a ride,” he stated. Viktor’s voice sounded bright, confident and his smile was even more brilliant than usual. “Come here.”

George lifted Alexander up so he could sit in front of Viktor on the broomstick. “Hold on tight.”

Viktor and Alexander sped off to the north. Not wanting to be left behind, George kicked off and chased after him. They flew past Leeds stadium, over the Dragon’s Clutch and toward the grove of evergreens just to the north of the wizarding part of town.

When they came to a clearing, Viktor dove down, eliciting a squeal of glee from Alexander, then made a sharp turn, pulled up and climbed up above the treetops again. He hovered there to let George catch up to them.

“Would you like me to fly with you back to your home?” Viktor asked, breathless.

“Yes. And then there’s something else I need you to do for me.”

Viktor smiled and sighed. “I would do anything for you, George. All you need to do is ask.”

George bit his lip to stifle his grin. “I’ll hold you to that, but first, let’s go back home.”

***

 

Harry and Ginny were waiting outside, watching the skies for George and Viktor to return. When George came back to the workshop with the belt and announced that it worked perfectly and that they would be making dozens more, but not until after he gave _this_ one to Viktor and saw him fly again, Harry had come up with the plan.

Truth be told, they _all_ wanted to see Viktor fly again. But, Harry pointed out, although regaining the skies would be magnificent, reclaiming his place as a seeker would be even better. George knew Harry was right. He felt fantastic flying again, but when he was up there in the sky, with a club in his hand, playing alongside his teammates, it was a different matter entirely.

Ginny was the first to spot them flying in from the West. “There they are,” she told Harry. “I’m going to get the others.” She ducked back inside while Harry watched the visitors approach.

“Hullo Harry,” George called out as they flew low into the clearing by the Burrow.

“Hullo George, Viktor,” Harry craned his neck, “Alexander.”

“Is everyone home?” George landed and tucked his broomstick onto his back. He turned to Viktor and Alexander, helping Alexander down so Viktor could land.

“They’re all here. Gin’s just gone in to get them. They should be out in--”

“Oooohh, There he is!” Molly cooed. “It’s so good of you to visit us again, Alexander. Now, have you had dinner yet? No? Very good, then you’ll come right in here and eat with us, won’t you?” Molly ushered the boy into the house as everyone else came out to greet George and Viktor.

Harry came up to them and held his hand out to Viktor. “It was a pleasure to see you flying again, Krum. I didn’t think I would ever have the privilege again.”

Viktor nodded and swallowed the knot in his throat. “George told me what you did to help. I cannot thank you enough.”

“You don’t have to thank me at all. It was him and Hermione, were the ones who did it all. I just helped a little when they asked me to.”

George took Viktor’s hand and led him into the house.

Everyone was there. Bill and Fleur were chatting with Arthur in the corner. Percy and Charlie were talking about new ministry restrictions on magical beasts as pets. Ron was busy transfiguring the table and benches to fit more people while Alexander watched and giggled. Molly had just taken a cake out of the oven and was levitating it over to the counter where Ginny was busy mixing up some punch.

Hermione came in right behind George and Viktor. “I see it fits perfectly,” she said, grinning, then breezed past them to help Ron with preparing the table.

“Viktor,” George pulled Viktor aside and cleared his throat. “Viktor, your home is too quiet. It’s a very nice place and I’m sure it serves its purpose well enough, but it’s very quiet. I’ve lived in a world of quiet for two years. All of this energy was gone.” George gestured around the room. “Oh, bloody hell, how do I say this?” He scrubbed his hand through his hair, tousling it until it was sticking out all over the place. “None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for you. At least not in my world. So, whatever it is that you think you owe me for... for that belt, it’s nothing compared to what you’ve done for us without even knowing it.”

The conversations around the room died down and all eyes looked toward the couple standing in the door. “So, what I’m trying to say... what you see here...”

“You’re mucking it all up, dear,” Molly said softly. 

“Shh, dumpling, let him finish” Arthur said, nodding in George’s direction.

“Just go ahead and say it, George,” Ron mumbled.

“We’d like you to move. Closer. Actually, right next-door.” George nervously scratched the top of his head.

Viktor smiled, then laughed. “You want me to live right next door?”

“No, we want you, George and Alexander to live right next door,” Molly clarified. “You see, it won’t take much to relocate your house to the field just to the north of here. Then little Alexander can come visit anytime he likes and when Bill and Fleur’s baby is born, he’ll have a little cousin to play with!”

“We all reckon you might as well become part of the family. Mum sort of adopts people like this.” Ron shrugged.

Viktor looked around the room at everyone. “So many of you,” he said. “Such a big family.” He turned to Alexander. “What do you think? Do you want to be a part of all of this?”

Alexander nodded enthusiastically, giggling.

“Then I suppose that is what must be,” he said with a big smile.

George put up his hand. “Well, you have to do one thing first,” he said.

“What is that?”

George pulled out the other paper package and untied the twine. Harry stepped forward holding _his_ Firebolt. The brown paper fell away revealing a brand new golden snitch.

“Everyone outside now,” George said. 

Viktor laughed, grabbed his broomstick and followed George out the door. As he passed him by, he leaned in next to George and pressed a kiss to the scar tissue that used to be his ear. “I love you,” he whispered.

George smiled. “Good. That makes it a lot easier for me. Good that it isn’t one-sided, I mean.”

He walked out into the clearing, Harry and Viktor mounted their brooms and with his whole family watching closely, George released the snitch.


End file.
